You scared me
by DirtyBrotherKiller
Summary: After the craziness of the protest, the bohos managed to get away. Suddenly, to Roger's horror, they realized what they forgot to take with them. Their dorky filmmaker, who wouldn't be any match for the cops Benny put on stand by. No marker in this one.


As they made their way through the frozen streets, staying close together, Ready for a protest that was supposed to save tent city, Nobody expected that a riot would break out.

It had all happened so fast. They went in, listening to Maureen's performance, staying close, smiling as everyone cheered, and payed attention to the diva up on stage. Roger kept an arm around Mimi's waist, glancing around at his friends from time to time, occasionally spotting their little blonde filmmaker sneaking closer to the stage, camera plastered to his face. Rolling his eyes, Roger returned his attention to Maureen, who was… mooing?

Any person who would happen to walk in right now, would probably think Mo was on drugs. Snorting with laughter to himself, Roger barely saw it coming. He knew something was wrong when he felt Mimi tense in his arms. Something clicked in his brain, and sure enough, they were wrapped up in the chaos.

He saw so much at once. His arms locked around Mimi, and they began to move backwards with the others. They shouted for one another, and glancing over, he saw Angel kicking the crap out of two cops, while Collins helped her get away. Maureen still stood on stage, trying to calm things, but eventually giving up, and fleeing herself, Joanne on her tail. Before Roger could say anything else, he and Mimi were dragged out by Collins, and stumbled onto the cold pavement outside the massive riot. Their plan was to meet at the life. They moved towards their destination, Mark was never a thought on Roger's blurred mind, until they arrived.

"Where's Mark?" whispered Mimi, and the others soon looked up, glancing around.

"I thought he was with you…" mused Joanne cautiously, her eyes going wide.

"You mean to tell me… he… he's still back there…" Collins yelped, glancing at Roger.

"He… I saw him going towards the stage… with that stupid camera in his face… FUCK! A guy his size… he's gonna get slaughtered back there!" yelled the tall blond, his eyes blazing. How could he forget Mark like that?

"Mark isn't stupid, Rog… maybe the cops dragged him out before it could get bad… maybe they're just holding him for the night…" Tried Angel, attempting to calm the rocker down.

"He was right in the middle of it! For fuck sake! He could be dead! and we all left without him! now we can't go back, there's no way we can get in now!" he screamed back. Collins grabbed his shoulder firmly.

"Roger, calm down. You screaming isn't gonna get Mark out of there. We just have to wait a little while, then we can go back, okay?"

Rog sighed. "Fine. Lets wait inside for him. There's no use freezing our asses off out here." The others murmured in agreement, and soon moved inside. Standing around the entrance, talking about what happened,

"Mark will be okay… he's clever, remember that." whispered Mimi from her place beside Roger at the window, rubbing his back, and offering a comforting smile. He looked down.

"Im going out for a cigarette." he patted his pants, growling in frustration.

"Babe, its fine, here, take one of mine." she said, taking one out of her pocket, and putting it between his lips, kissing his cheek. He nodded as thanks, and slipped out the door.

Standing on the freezing corner, he snarled in anger, and kicked a trash can out of his way. How could he have just left like that? From day one, he had been Mark's protector. Nobody was allowed to lay a hand on his filmmaker. Mark trusted Roger with his life, and Roger had left without so much as a thought of Mark running through his mind. It had happened so fast… he was so overwhelmed… the image of Mark crouching beside the stage with his camera flashed through his mind.

Images of Mark's bruised, bloody, trampled dead body flashed through his mind. His eyes began to water as he imagined the smaller man fighting to escape, crying out for help, searching the crowd for his musician, to no avail. It was like elementary school, when the bigger kids used to shove him down into the dirt, and kick the crap out of him for being "The nerd with the camera" until Roger came, the BIGGER kid, and put them in their place.

He had always admired the smaller blonde. The minute he saw him, crying on that hard playground dirt, being laughed at, a fire had ignited inside him. Mark was HIS from that day on. Nobody would ever hurt him, as long as Roger was around to prevent it.

Some protector you are… he could be dead right now, all because you only wanted to get your sorry ass to safety. I hope you know what you've done. He depended on you, and when the time came, you weren't by his side. Live with that, lover boy. Snarled a voice in his head. He ran a hand through his blonde curls, chewing on his cigarette, and closing his eyes tight as a few tears started to fall. He had fucked up. Big time.

"You had to film the fucking riot, didn't you… you always have that stupid fucking camera in your face… i'm the one who's supposed to end up in hospitals for being an asshole, not you… for Christ sake… M-mark…" he whispered, sending another kick to the trashcan, the slam of his boot echoing through the deserted night streets. Closing his eyes again, something caught his attention. Small footfalls, desperate, clumsy, familiar.

Looking up, his watery eyes giving away what he was doing, he saw the smaller man jogging over, camera at his side, a goofy smile on his face. Pushing his glasses up, and adjusting his coat, he called out.

"Rog! hey! I've been looking for you! some riot, huh? You wouldn't believe the shots I got, come look!" as he reached his roommates side, a growl from Roger silenced him.

"You… are… a fucking… asshole…" He was pulled against the rocker in a hug. He wheezed slightly, not appreciating the sudden crushing of his ribs. Roger was warm though, so it wasn't all that bad. "Don't you ever…Ever do that to me again. I thought you were dead! fucking hell, don't you ever think? Why would you get in the middle of that shit? I'm the first one to go, understand?"

Mark's arms snaked around Roger in return, and he rubbed his back. "Sorry Rog… I didn't mean to worry you… I just wanted to… get some footage… and great news! It got bought!" Roger ignored, him, keeping him in his arms awhile longer before letting go.

"Yeah, that's great. You aren't hurt, right?" he inspected Mark, his eyes concerned. Mark smiled.

"I'm fine, come on, lets go in." Roger rolled his eyes.

"Fucking filmmakers…"


End file.
